Free A Christmas Hope by Stacy Henrie

children who come to the bank.” She bent forward over her folded arms. “And talk to their parents.”
    “I do talk to their parents.”
    “I know.” Her look seemed to imply something deeper than agreement. “I meant more like you did with Johnny today. All those questions you asked him about himself.”
    Dale tapped his thumb against the edge of the table. “I was only trying to make him less frightened, so he’d let me look at his finger.”
    Maria’s face lit up as if he’d promised her all the Christmas trees in the world. “Exactly. You can do the same with all the bank patrons, whether they’re young or old. Just talk to them as if they were that boy. Ask them questions about their lives, put them at ease.”
    He stilled his hand as he considered her suggestion. Easing the boy’s discomfort today had been second nature, as it had been when he’d helped Maria at the ice-skating pond. He’d seen a need, knew he could meet it, and jumped in, oblivious to what anyone thought of his missing eye. Could he do the same with someone who wasn’t in pain or frightened?
    “It’d be easier if they were hurting,” he half joked.
    “Most of them are,” Maria countered, her voice somber once more. “Even if we can’t see it.”
    What hurts did she harbor behind that perpetually optimistic outlook and biting wit? Dale wanted to ask, but he wasn’t sure she would answer truthfully. At least not yet. “Where did you learn so much about people?” he asked instead.
    Some of the gloominess fled her expression. “I like studying them, finding out what makes them happy, what’s important to them.”
    She eyed the nearby window, and Dale followed her gaze. A woman moved past the coffeehouse, her body bent into the cold wind, her eyes turned down.
    “For instance,” Maria observed quietly, “that woman is in a hurry. Maybe she’s rushing home after a long day of work, at a job she may not have in a few months when all of the soldiers return. She hates the winter weather and something is troubling her. Possibly money worries, since her coat is looking threadbare and a little outdated.”
    “Hmm.” Dale met her eyes when she turned from the window. “I’m impressed.” He’d assumed Maria’s friendly interactions with the bank customers stemmed from a desire to be seen as charismatic, but he was beginning to realize he’d been wrong. “What about me?”
    “You?”
    “What has your study of me revealed?”
    Their cocoa arrived at that moment, and Dale wondered if she’d use that as an excuse not to answer. A possibility he found rather disappointing. He found he was quite curious to know what she thought of him.
    They both took a sip of the sweet-smelling liquid, then Maria set down her mug. “You really want to know?”
    He feigned a frown, hoping she couldn’t tell how much he did. “That bad, huh?”
    She chuckled. “Not all bad.” He raised his brow at her, making her laugh again. “Let’s see. You were an exceptional surgeon and working at a bank isn’t something you ever saw yourself doing.” She wrapped her long fingers around her cup and examined its contents. Dale braced himself. Her next words would likely be as difficult for him to hear as they clearly were for her to say. “You think people only see you for your injury, which is why you often spend so much time in your office.” Her voice came out low, earnest. “But when you smile or feel like you’re really helping someone or talk to people like you did with that boy today, you’re yourself.”
    Maria lifted her chin. “I can’t think of anything greater to be than that.”
    Her accurate assessment blindsided him, piercing through his defenses and leaving him at a loss as to how to respond. To hide his discomfort, Dale took a long swallow of cocoa. And burned his tongue in the process.
    “Can I get some water?” he announced hoarsely as the waitress moved past their table. She nodded and turned back toward the kitchen.